The Smell of Home

I can't remember the last time I took the train from Mumbai to Kochi- it has been well over ten years, if my mental arithmetic is anything to go by. However, most Malayalis would agree with me that there is a distinct tang of greenery and a dew-soaked freshness to the air as the train moves across the Tamil Nadu border into Palakkad in Kerala before chugging along to Kochi and further south. That first deep drawing of breath heralds the beginning of a vacation, just the same way that the acridness in air as Palakkad is left behind draws the curtains on a break that always feel like it sped away on rollerblades.

These days the sight of the expansive carpet of greenery from the cubbyhole window of a plane gives me that kick of homecoming...and makes me realise what the call of the blood means. There are a myriad things that I can crib about my homeland, but that sense of absolute love that overtakes me, that sense of belonging that says 'Love Me Hate Me But You Cannot Forsake Me'. There are a few distinct smells that you cannot but miss in Kerala. Each smell triggers off a childhood memory, a vignette, a reason to smile and reminisce...

My flight from Mumbai this time, was literally at the crack of dawn, I flew with the Sun, chasing the night light away and soaking in the red, pink and orange streaks of the breaking dawn that mixed in an ethereal way with the diluted blues of the midnight. By the time I landed in Kochi, it was reasonably early, at least by my standards that dub morning as any time after 9. That's why as I sleep-walked into the restroom at the Kochi airport, the first smell of familiarity that assailed me also woke me up.

The woman who kept the rooms spotlessly clean, had the look of a traditional Malayali woman, scrubbed and bathed, with sandal paste and red kumkum on her forehead and curly black hair glistening with coconut oil. Now this coconut oil that Malayali women specially temper at home called kaachiya enna does not smell like your regular bottle of Parachute coconut oil. This oil is a potent brew of coconut oil with several other herbs that exude a smell that can identify you as a Malayali at a distance even at the Kumbh Mela. I gave her my best morning sleepy smile, she must have wondered if I had a few screws jolted in the plane ride..But the smell took me back to those bus rides to college in the morning rush hour when packed like sardines, we'd stand on barely a leg for the best part of half an hour, with our noses barely an inch away from someone's freshly washed and oiled hair.

These days, the sanitised confines of dad's AC sedan means that there are few outdoor smells that percolate in. There used to be a time when the trip from the airport to home would be liberally sprinkled with generous gulps of breath sucked in to retain the aroma as we pass by bakeries..now unlike in other cities, bakeries are not really places where they bake stuff, but they merely sell baked stuff and confectioneries made elsewhere. But a few of the bigger, older ones have huge vats of coconut oil constantly on the boil just outside the shop, into which practised hands expertly slice in raw bananas before scooping out those yummy banana chips. Our noses are by now habituated to smelling out fresh oil and stale chips. It is an art and once you perfect it, your reputation back in the city you live in is guaranteed to soar among friends. For, they often grudginly allow you to take a break on the condition that giant parcels of banana chips return with you...Well-made chips are little crisps of divinity...and damn the cholesterol scare or the calories menace..

Banana chips, apart, there is the smell of tapioca frying or jackfruit frying. The Malayalis reading this would by now be drooling. The smell is inexplicably nostalgia invoking..and then the craving can only be satiated by biting into a crisp chip. While I'm no fan of the smell of a thoroughly marinated piece of fish or meat crispening in hot curry-leaves tempered oil, I'd be a bad commentator of the smells of home, if I don't make a mention of it.

Hmmm, talking of food, have you smelt mangoes ripening? April the season for sultry heat and the smell of mangoes ripening in the air..This year, Dad has lovingly nurtured little bundles of nectar in our garden. He talks to them, coaxes them to grow healthy, battling pests that are keen to make merry and leave us shortchanged.. I think the assault on the senses, especially that of smell cannot be a single post..But I'd love to leave you with another secret joy...

Mamma's garden has several plants that you'd hardly find in a dusty urban jungle like Mumbai. Soon after a cooling evening shower, just as the aroma of the earth rises into the air, there is something to be said for walking on the spongy, wet ground, disturbing the raindrops that the leaves have trapped within them. Rub a few of the leaves between your hands, and the fragrance that nature leaves behind on your hands...:) 

Sometimes, it takes distance to make the heart grow fonder...Sometimes, it takes a gentle trip down the memory lanes of smell to recapture lost moments of childhood..

(P:S All the photographs are mine and I don't think stealing is a good idea..though if you want to use it, credit it..:)